


To Be Wed

by MsMK



Series: Reader-supported Stories [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Asexual Sans (Undertale), F/M, Female Reader, Mutual Pining, Papyrus is a Prince, Papyrus is a knight, Platonic Sans/Reader - Freeform, Politics, reader is a princess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 19:26:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18697714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsMK/pseuds/MsMK
Summary: You're madly in love with Prince Papyrus of Snowdin, despite being betrothed to his brother to keep the peace between the kingdoms. You believed it was for the best--after all, it isn't as if he feels that way for you in return.Or does he?





	1. The Betrothal

**Author's Note:**

> This was a raffle prize that got wildly out of hand lol.  
> Should be about 3-4 chapters in the end, maybe some bonuses! Enjoy!

There was never any mistake that the neighboring kingdoms of Snowdin and Versalia had a...strenuous relationship.

In the past, King Gaster had caused several small wars, mostly political in nature, over his questionable trade policies and scientific advances. Once, a true war had been on the horizon--you had personally watched your father rally the troops in secret, sending spies to see if they were lying. You had been raised in hushed whispers that the monsters were plotting something, and though you had been raised a benevolent princess, you were also taught to be wary and wise. There were peace treaties signed and broken on both sides, and when you grew old enough to advise your father, he actually bent his ear to you when you suggested a yearly celebration of peace between the two kingdoms. The edges of your territories touched, and so a castle was built on that border to hold a huge banquet once a year, for more than just the signing of papers.

It was there that you met the princes of Snowdin.

It was there that you fell hopelessly in love with the youngest one, oblivious as he is to your affections.

And it was there that your father and King Gaster announced your peacemaking betrothal…

...to the eldest.

* * *

“somethin’ wrong? is the dress too tight?”

You shook your head, and Sans hummed, seeing through your carefully constructed facade like always.

This was the announcement night, and while you were happy for the sign of good will between your people, you can't fathom  _ how _ this misunderstanding had happened. You had always been able to talk to Sans easily, not swayed to stuttering from a hopeless crush like when you tried to talk to his brother. For all those years you had been trained to speak under pressure, nothing had ever prepared you for the pressure of talking to someone so strikingly  _ princely _ , in more than just title.

Most princes were downright rude and spoiled, entitled little shits who only wanted you for your land rights. But not Papyrus.

Papyrus was one of those princes that rightfully  _ earned _ the title, birthrights be damned. Even had he not been born royalty you've no doubt anyone would have difficulty seeing him as anything but. His manners were impeccable, his chivalry unmatched--much like his sword. He led the knights of his kingdom alongside the captain of the guard, and he did so with grace and finesse beyond anything you had ever been capable of.

This is a far cry from his brother, the crowned Prince, Sans….your fiance. He was more business-minded, quick as a whip but lacking most manners and niceties royalty use. Perhaps it was the kindred spirit in him that appealed to your own weariness of the facade, but what really drew you together was how often you talked about Papyrus.

You suppose that, observing from the outside, it was easy to assume you despised Papyrus and fancied Sans, seeing as you actively avoided the younger prince in favor of the elder's company at every turn. You had never been the best at expressing yourself outside of the calculated future queen facade.

“we can just tell them no,” Sans said, squeezing your hand gently as you sat beside him, the thrones and the castle they belonged to now promised to you both once the marriage was completed next month. “that you have feelings for papyrus?”

“The controversy that would spread...and we only just achieved peace between the kingdoms,” you sighed. “Besides that, I've no clue if your brother even sees me, and no desire to box him into this against his will.”

“oh, but against  _ my _ will is fine?” he chuckled, and you smirked. As business-minded as he was, you knew he thought this was a good move, and you supposed that marrying a good friend is better than marrying someone you can't stand.

“I think I'm tired from the dancing. I'm going to retire for the evening.” You sighed, and he stood with you.

“i'll make somethin’ up. think about what i said, though--there's still two more days of the festival, they have time to make another announcement.”

“...I shall consider it. Goodnight, my Lord.”

And with that, you turned to walk the empty halls, the chatter and music of the party fading into the distance as you moved towards your bedchambers, deep in thought.

You half-wish you had said nothing to your father. That this castle had never been built and that the tenuous, formal treaty had stood, rather than this. It wasn't as if a poor life awaited you--just a relatively empty one, it seemed, devoid of both love and duty, until King Gaster seceded the throne to Sans and you. Then at least you could forget yourself in the duties of a queen. As a princess, you have nothing but the things that are given to you, and your feelings are all you felt as if you could truly claim.

And to watch time pass, and grow old as Papyrus finds his true love? A relatively happy life with Sans, with at least one heir, while your heart wishes you were with another. Bittersweet at best.

You paused, one hand on the banister as you stopped on the steps.

Would you even be able to conceive an heir? Monster reproduction, you had heard, requires a bond, a soul bond, deeper than anything you had ever felt and, as far as you know, forged in love. You suppose you may grow to love Sans as you do Papyrus, as irrationally upset as that thought makes you feel. But if you don't? What of the kingdom?

...questions for another night, you supposed.

“M'Lady!”

You squeaked, hand flying to your breast as your corset wringed the tiny breath from you. You know that voice, and you can't help the blush from settling on your cheeks, can't control the way your heart starts to beat like the intense war drums of your childhood.

“O-oh, Sir Papyrus, I didn't see you there,” you flustered, brushing your hair behind your ear nervously as you turned to see him, standing there in all his splendor, his helmet under his arm and looking as ragged as a ray of sunshine can. “You...weren't at the ball.”

“Ah, yes, training with the new recruits went over a little too well, it seems.” He closed the distance, offering his arm to you in a chivalrous display. You took it, heart pounding as your hand slid over the smooth, cold armor. He smelled like oranges, you could tell from this distance as he helped you up the stairs. “Were you unwell? It isn't like you to leave a party so early.”

“Fatigued,” you explained briefly. “It has been a long night of talking, mostly. I decided to retire early. Thank you for escorting me.”

Do you sound too informal? Does he want to be addressed as a knight, a prince, or a future King? You don't even know at this point, and you're too afraid to ask. So you focus on the steps and not tripping over the frilly hem of your gown.

“Yes, Father did say there was to be a rather large announcement tonight. It is regrettable to have missed it,” he sighed. “What was it? I'm too busy with the Guard to be included in these things anymore, you know.”

You giggled demurely behind your hand at his little stab at himself. You know many balk at his insistence of being on the same level as knights and even commoners on the battlefield, but you actually find it endearingly brave.

“Well, it was a big one,” you said softly, trying to keep your smile fixed as you neared your bedchambers. “...I am to be wed.”

“Gracious, my lady, that--that is joyous news indeed!” 

He stuttered, and you cocked your head, observing him. He never stuttered! And his arm tightened on yours for just the briefest of moments...What exactly was going on here? Or is that your imagination creating a reaction you wanted to see?

“Yes. My marriage to Sans will...bring great prosperity to this land.”

This time his arm definitely tightened, because it hurt just a smidge, but by the time you winced it had passed, and a strange look had crossed his face as you stopped in front of your door.

“To Sans! Of course, that's...well, that's only reasonable, isn't it? It is a relief you won't be leaving for some far-off land.” His smile was the same as ever, and you smiled softly back.

For some reason, it was much easier talking to him knowing you would never have him. A bittersweet sort of acceptance made the whole exchange natural.

You placed a hand on his cheekbone gently, and the setting sun in a nearby window almost had you thinking he was blushing. A girl can dream, right?

You leaned up and kissed him gently on the cheekbone, eyelids fluttering closed as you enjoyed this rare moment of boldness and the surprising give of his bone beneath your lips. It was feather-light and intimate, and you would likely think about it for years.

“Wowie, my lady,” he breathed as you leaned back, shyness overtaking you in the wake of your candor. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He looked so starry-eyed, almost literally, his gloved hand coming up to gently tap the place you kissed, and you giggled as if you had a secret...which you did.

The secret being that you love him.

“I don't know. Perhaps it was just for walking me to my bedchambers...or perhaps it's for always being so kind. I'm excited to become a part of your family, Lord Papyrus.”

And with that, you turned to enter your bedchambers.

“WAIT!”

You jumped and slammed the door back shut, having never heard the Prince raise his voice like that unless rallying the troops. “Y-Yes my Lord?!”

He seemed embarrassed at his outburst. “Oh, I'm...I'm terribly sorry for startling you. I was just wondering, my lady, if you would be attending the tournaments tomorrow? I know you usually skip the sporting events, but...I will be competing and would very much like for you to be there.”

You never missed a chance to see Papyrus astride a horse, or wielding a blade, or both. “Oh, I never miss any of  _ your _ events, my Lord,” you giggled behind your hand. “I will be there. With my ladies-in-waiting.”

“Yes, splendid!” He smiled wide and stood tall, giving you a classic hand-on-heart salute. “Then, I wonder, since my lazy brother doesn't participate in such things, if just this once...I might sport a favor of yours? To symbolize the...promise of peace.”

You felt your face grow warmer at the suggestion, and hope the setting sunlight from across the hall covered your wanton blush. A favor was no small thing, and though a bachelor like him may take many favors, one from a princess is almost certainly a sign of romance.

But...it's true, it would be a sign of good will, especially since Sans would never have the chance to sport it. Besides, you only have a month left to entertain your silly dreams…

“Of course, Sir Knight,” you said, drawing your handkerchief out. You had embroidered this one yourself, your initials and tiny pink roses on rich purple fabric. “It's only natural we flaunt the kingdoms’ new connection.”

He seemed to hold his breath as you dropped it into his hand, and you almost thought he might pull his hand away and tell you it was a joke, like some of the other princes you knew might.

But he didn't, because of course not. He was too sincere for pranks like that.

“Right!” He said, gently closing his hand around it. “I shall wear it proudly when I win.”

“Cockiness is very un-princely,” you chided playfully as you slipped behind the door. “I shall see you on the morrow to see if you can match those words in action, my Lord.”

“Papyrus!”

There was silence between you two for a long moment as you tried to puzzle out why exactly he just called out his own name, and he chuckled a little, bringing his hand to cover his face just a bit.

“I only meant...would you consider calling me Papyrus?”

“Just that?” You asked, hoping you weren't fidgeting too much with the door.

“Yes. Just that.” He confirmed with a firmness that surprised you. “I like it when...I mean, it feels right.”

“Very well...Papyrus.” You could feel the smile on your face as it rolled so easily off your tongue...no honorifics or titles...he was right, it felt right to say it out loud that way. “Rest well, or you won’t be of any glory to me tomorrow at all, now will you?”

He chuckled. “I’m always on my toes, Princess. Rest well.”


	2. The Declaration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus finds the other kingdoms aren't happy to lay down while you marry elsewhere.  
> So why should he accept it, either?

Papyrus never regretted his place in the army of his kingdom. He never once believed that training and becoming a Knight alongside the others was wrong. He never once thought that he worked too hard, too late, or too much.

He was proud of his manners and politeness. He made sure to befit the title he bore with every movement and word. He did not pry where he was not wanted or interrupt, and he did not beg favors of pretty women like some princes he knew.

And though he still stood by these things, and believed in them...he was ashamed to admit he had cursed it all when you told him of your betrothal.

“Papyrus, slow down!” Undyne shouted, her hand on his shoulder firmly grounding him and pulling him from his focus. “Young Lord, you’re going to murder that recruit if you don’t take it easy!”

He blinked, leveling an apologetic smile on the poor, trembling recruit holding the massive shield he’d been unloading his frustrations on. He’d pushed the young farmhand a good ten feet while lost in thought, it seemed.

“Apologies, I...must have gotten distracted.” He sighed, pushing his helm up to better see his captain.

“We can see that,” she chuckled, before her face grew sober with understanding. “Is this about the betrothal?”

“I’d rather not speak of it here,” he said, his hand falling to his sword hilt, where your kerchief was tied lovingly.

True, he was proud to be a warrior, even amongst a country and family that praised and dedicated so much time to science and business. And he believed his manners a boon.

But those things, and maybe many more, are exactly why he’s lost out to his brother for the hand of someone he so sorely loved with all his soul.

He couldn’t explain it, of course--few could find the words for such things. But he had first laid eyes on you when visiting your castle on official Royal Guard business, to personally extend the invitation to the annual treaty signing. He’d been so fixed on the conversation, and yet, the sound of laughter caught his attention, and when his sockets wandered…

There you were, in the courtyard with a group of children from the Kingdom’s city, framed by beautiful purple flowers as you read to them a passage on peace and prosperity from what he later learned you called “Princess Lessons”. Each little girl had a small tiara, whether they wore fine silks or rough woolen dresses, and there was no doubt that every little girl in your presence was equal in your eyes.

He fell in love immediately.

But when your eyes began to wander his way...he moved swiftly so as not to be caught staring and flicked down the visor of his armor to hide his blush.

He’d been overjoyed when construction on the new castle began, and especially the reason why--your grace and visions of peace were bringing the kingdoms together, and he couldn’t be happier, as a prince as well as a man.

But...whatever charm you had laid on him the first time...didn’t seem to work both ways. You were polite, but frankly avoided him more often than not. You would exit the room when he entered, or stop talking and pretend not to see him when he came by. He believed you would warm up, and you did…

...to Sans. He saw you talking in the gardens, the library, even walking about town. And Sans visited your kingdom frequently in the off-months as well, and if ever you came to their castle it was to discuss things with Sans and your respective fathers.

So it made sense, in many ways, for you to marry Sans, he supposed. He had kept his feelings to himself, failing to confess time and again for fear of upsetting you with “yet another insincere suitor” as you often complained of. His nerves were as steel on the battleground...but mere marshmallows with love, it seemed.

“I see you’re sporting a new favor, there,  _ Beast _ ,” came a snicker from his side as they entered the waiting area with champions from all the neighboring kingdoms. Swordplay was first, and he’d drawn the green stick, which meant he’d be in the first round.

“Indeed, I--” He gasped as the other champion snatched your kerchief, a Prince named Simon, whom he’d been bullied by for some time despite outmatching him for height, wits,  _ and _ strength for many years.

“These initials, oh, so scandalous,” the prince teased, holding it away from Papyrus. “What do you think, boys? Secret lovers beneath his own brother’s lack-of-nose?”

Most of the other champions rolled their eyes, some royal and nobility and others hardworking commoners--all with far too much else to do than pick on arguably the strongest guy here.

Simon scoffed at the lack of response before throwing the kerchief back at him. “No matter. It’s probably a one-sided crush, anyhow.”

“You don’t scare me, Lord Simon,” Papyrus said, tucking your favor back around his hilt. “We’ll see what you’re made of in the games--what was it? Fifth place to my first, every year for the past six years?”

“Stakes are higher this time,” Simon responded gruffly, not an ounce of princeliness to his voice. “This year, there’s a wedding to stop. When I win, I will challenge your idiot brother to a duel with my granted wish. And in that duel, I shall win your  _ fair maiden’s _ hand, along with her kingdom.”

Papyrus bristled visibly, and the other champions looked away shamefully. “This is everyone's plan? To steal away my kingdom's  _ peace _ and my brother and his betrothed's  _ happiness?” _

“No, monster,” Simon sneered. “The  _ plan _ has nothing to do with happiness or peace. It has everything to do with rightful heirs! You monsters think you can muck up our traditions by tricking Versalia into promising her hand, but in reality the laws are heavy-set. And even if you moved the games to your makeshift town on the borders, it does not change the fact that a Kingdom with no male heirs shall be expected to follow the rules of form--he who wins the games, wins the princess, and therefore the kingdom. Did you think you won from luck or talent all those years? Nay, beast, we only wished to see you complacent in that you would not challenge us when the true games came along. And now that the betrothal to your brother is set, the kingdom has put forth her hand for the taking, and since your brother can seemingly do nothing to defend himself and you are bolstered with years of false confidence, I would say, we have a fair chance.”

It hardly seemed fair, and he should be mad at the betrayal of what he considered to be friendly competition amongst allies. But...to be honest, it made sense, even if the way Simon put it made him slightly ill.

Versalia was a prosperous nation, seconded only by his own, and the neighboring kingdoms had long been conquered or treatied, with abundant trade and merchant routes between. Your father and you only had each other--no siblings, and your mother passed giving birth to you. He supposed there had probably been whispers since the day you were born--that Simon and the others had been training for these games and the chance to elevate their families and their people since they could crawl.

But also…

“I'm glad you've brought this to my attention,” he said gently. “It appears there is only one thing to do, in light of all this.”

“Withdraw?” Simon chuckled.

Papyrus smiled brightly at him.

“Of course not! Why, I'll have to win, of course.”

* * *

Sans chuckled as you leaned even closer to the handrail, hardly even containing your excitement as they introduced Papyrus. You were in much higher spirits today than you had been last night, and he had to wonder if it had to do with how dazed his brother had looked when he finally showed, absently brushing his cheek as he held your kerchief.

Sans had never doubted that he cared for you, but it was only platonic--his first and only love would always be science, and your genuine kindness and compassion was always refreshing. That's why if he had to marry someone for duty, he'd be glad it was you, at least.

But he'd rather you marry Papyrus. Honestly, ruling a kingdom seems like a lot of work, and it would likely take away from his studies. If you and his brother cared for each other so much, and could also make a smart political and economic move with those feelings, then why not? But of course his father didn't think the two of you liked each other that way, so here he was, sitting next to you to watch you sigh over his brother, possibly for the rest of your lives.

There's still time to change it. But he focused on not rocking the boat, and sat back to watch you watch his brother compete.

And what a competition it was! Usually his brother didn't even have to break a sweat to win these games, so notorious for his prowess that his nickname was “Papyrus the Great”. But this year, they must have ante'd up better champions, or at least trained their asses off, because they were actually challenging him!

Turned out, it didn't really matter, as it happened, because Papyrus was more determined than ever to win, your purple kerchief flashing as he pulled out moves that had even Sans paying attention, in some rounds disarming opponents in as quick as a few seconds. Other rounds, though, he definitely had to try, and those rounds alone were enough to have the crowds going insane.

But the last round of sportsmanship, with Simon of Katal? The crowd was gasping and crying out in fear as their white knight actually went  _ on the defensive, _ for the first time in anybody's memory.

You gasped out loud when Simon parried and thrusted, glancing off of Papryrus’ armor and sending the prince staggering back, failing to party the next strike as Simon mercilessly advanced.

A few steps and Papyrus dodged the third strike that would have lost him the match, and now the crowds were shrieking and you had both hands over your mouth in shock and worry. His footwork faltered in response to the risky dodge, and Simon coiled back like a snake, ready to strike--

“He's going to lose!” One of your handmaidens gasped.

“Papyrus never loses!” You shouted, unnecessarily loud and passionate as you dropped your hands and leaned over the railing. “Don't you dare lose whilst sporting my favor, Papyrus of Snowdin!”

Chittering laughter and cheers rose from the crowd at that, and Papyrus’ eyes flashed to you briefly. Simon took the opportunity to strike, but with renewed confidence Papyrus parried flawlessly, advancing faster than before and causing the visitor to stumble back.

“One!” You and the crowd cried as he tagged his opponent on the side and dodged his response.

“Two!” A crack against his chestplate, caving it slightly and likely leaving Simon's ears ringing.

A party, a few more missed strikes--

The clatter of the final strike was drowned out by the crowd's shouts of “ **Three** !!” and Simon cursed and threw his sword to the ground as the judges turned Papyrus’ cards to reveal the winning symbol.

You laughed and bounced in place, turning to Sans. “He won!”

“he always does, why are you surprised?” Sans chuckled as he accepted your enthusiastic celebratory hug. “oof, relax, princess, it's time to offer him a prize.”

“Oh, right!”

He watched as you gathered your skirts, practically bouncing down the steps to the winner's booth as you had a thousand times before.

Papyrus was coated in a layer of dirt where his helm didn't cover, but he was smiling brightly as he met you to receive his medal. You slipped it around his neck, shying away from his gaze a bit with a giggle.

“May I make a request, Princess?” He asked, surprising you by cutting off your offer of a boon.

“Of course, Fair Knight,” you said, allowing him to take your hand. “The victor shall choose his prize!”

There was excited whispering at this, and Papyrus’ hand tightened on yours as his other came up to salute you over his chestplate.

“Fair Princess, it has come to my attention that there are certain traditions we have overlooked in the forging of our country's peace!” He smiled at you, before turning to the crowd and pulling your favor from his sword to include it in his salute. “IN ACCORDANCE TO THE TREATY OF THE NATIONS AND ITS RULES UPON AN HEIRLESS KINGDOM, I, PAPYRUS OF SNOWDIN, ANNOUNCE MY INTENT TO WIN THE HAND OF THE PRINCESS OF VERSALIA!”

There was whispering behind you from the crowd as well as the judges, likely discussing this law, but you were deaf to it as you stared at him in disbelief.

He turned back to you, gaze soft.

“Forgive me for that, Princess, but there are those with nefarious purposes present at this festival. As your future brother-in-law it is my duty to win you in my brother's stead.”

Oh. Of course. You smiled at him, ready to thank him for fighting for your kingdom's peace, but his hand tightened on yours and he leaned in, silencing you with one sentence you thought you would never hear.

“...And as a knight in love with a fair, loving, and kind princess, it is  _ also  _ my duty to win you from him, fair and square.”


End file.
